


The Fairy and the Clock Keeper

by CelestialKnight



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, F/F, Fairy, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 07:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17463470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialKnight/pseuds/CelestialKnight
Summary: It was exquisite in architecture and in mechanical design. It was a self-reliant clock, though needed maintenance here and there. Compared to the new architecture of 2077, this clock tower stood strong as a symbol of the long forgotten past. A time before World War III, where warfare was more than just weapons. It had been assault on the physical and digital realms. Some technology had been lost beyond repair.The tale of the war was engraved on a plaque within the clock tower, commemorating those who had died during the war. All of their names were written out in a show of solitude. Brigitte could only give a fair moment of silence as she examined it, paying her respect to those who had died to give her the future she now had.





	The Fairy and the Clock Keeper

**Author's Note:**

> I am a sad, sad lesbian that just wants more lesbian content for their niche rarepairs. And if I gotta create all the art and fics myself, so freaking be it. 
> 
> (And yes most of the art made for them so far seems to be only mine).

When the clock strikes noon, Brigitte sighs. It’s time for her lunch break, and daily sneak off to the abandonment clock tower just down the street. The thought of seeing her there, however, is not uncommon. She holds the keys to the city’s oldest building, as one of the few people trained for its maintenance. She was a trained mechanic in defence systems. However she had a love for clocks. When asked if someone could take a look at the clock tower, she jumped upon the chance. 

 

It was exquisite in architecture and in mechanical design. It was a self-reliant clock, though needed maintenance here and there. Compared to the new architecture of 2077, this clock tower stood strong as a symbol of the long forgotten past. A time before World War III, where warfare was more than just weapons. It had been assault on the physical and digital realms. Some technology had been lost beyond repair. 

 

The tale of the war was engraved on a plaque within the clock tower, commemorating those who had died during the war. All of their names were written out in a show of solitude. Brigitte could only give a fair moment of silence as she examined it, paying her respect to those who had died to give her the future she now had. 

 

There was a familiar scent to this clock tower, as she hears the gears grind, and the pendulum swing. It was a familiar sight, a familiar sound, and a familiar scent. The wooden steps shuddered as metal boots climbed the spiralling staircase. Paint slowly chipped away at the metal railing as she ran her hand up it, her only support on the way up. 

 

At the top, however, she was greeted with the most familiar of faces. “Brigitte! I was worried you wouldn’t be coming.” It was only for a moment that the owner of the voice was a small speck of light, before taking the form of a young woman. Every time, Brigitte’s breath was taken away. The woman was tall, yet not as tall as Brigitte herself. Her shoes were a satin pink, reminding Brigitte of wooden ballet shoes her youngest sister raved about. Her hair was that of a sort turquoise, while she wore a dress of pink and purple. The thought of a chrysanthemum came to Brigitte’s mind as the woman walked forward. She looked like a flower, smelled as sweet as one, looked as lovely as one, and felt as soft as one. 

 

“I’d never leave you alone.” The woman, a fairy named Mercy, was no bird of paradise, but she was Brigitte’s chrysanthemum. 

 

Meeting Mercy halfway, their hands intertwined as they slowly drifted into the air, sitting not being much of an issue to a fairy like Mercy. Brigitte sighed as she let her food float in the air, enjoying the nice relaxing break given to her.

 

“I just get scared, you know? I’ve only ever had one friend, and…” there was a fore long look in Mercy's eyes, as she stared into the wall. Brigitte knew of this story well. When she’d first taken on responsibility of clock keeper, Mercy had called out to her, asking for someone named  _ Ana _ . 

 

Brigitte only had bits and pieces of the story, but nothing truly concrete. Ana had been a soldier posted in Germany during the Third World War. She’d been a captain, and a sniper at that. The clock tower had been her nest, as she scoped our targets and laid them to rest. Neither of them were truly  _ fond _ of Ana’s mentioned activities, but war was war. A clock tower as beautiful as this one was bound to be used to commit unavoidable atrocities.

 

Out of the blue, without short notice, Ana had finished into the night, with not so much as a note to Mercy. It had left the fairy heartbroken, but… she slowly knew to move on. Life hurt, but humans were mortal.

 

Brigitte couldn’t help the bang in her chest that she felt as the words left Mercy’s mouth. As reminiscent or unintentional as they were, Brigitte was mortal too. She too could vanish into the night without a word, and without a trace. What would happen to Mercy? Would she be alright? 

 

“Do you mind if I braid your hair?” Brigitte craned her head, and noted the way Mercy’s hands hovered around her hair. Brigitte nodded as she took a bite of the sandwich she’d lazily prepared the night before. With a glossy white smile, Mercy began to methodically part and style Brigitte’s hair. While it seemed as though her hair was thick,  it was in fact incredibly thin. The illusion lied in the amount of hair she had. Mercy tugged, pulling strands of hair here and there, causing jolts of pleasure-pain to run through Brigitte’s nerves. She remembered her godfather’s words: ASMR. The only  _ real _ reason she knew of it was the fact that it had apparently been a trend in the early 2000s, and her godfather had partaken in the trend. 

 

Mercy’s meticulous hands running through her hair only elicited a calming response from Brigitte, as the sound of the ticking clock, and Mercy’s hums filled the air. It was almost as though she were inside a music box, and Mercy was the little ballerina trapped inside, only to be free upon Brigitte’s demand. Painfully, it reminded her of Mercy’s current life. It was similar, wasn’t it? She’d never once seen the fairy leave this clock tower. Did Mercy exist outside of this space? 

 

Brigitte’s ears perked as garbled nonsense in a voice a soft as satin vibrated through the air. “Uh…” Brigitte lowered her sandwich, and raised her eyes, a mock attempt at claiming her head backwards to give Mercy her full attention.

 

There was an amused huff, followed by a tsk. “I said… your hair looks lovely like this.” Mercy waved her hand, and a small mirror appeared. Surrounded by porcelain flowers, Brigitte started into her reflection. It was not too dissimilar from Mercy’s own hair, yet it was nice. A braid around her hairline, and a braided chignon in the back. It was lower than Mercy’s own, on the neckline rather than the back of her head. 

 

“It’s  _ beautiful.”  _ The praise was genuine, as Brigitte sung it to her. There was such awe in the way she gasped out the past word, and a giant smile on her face as she turned around to hug the woman she loved so much.

 

For Brigitte was truly, madly in love with someone she could never amount to be with. For she was a mortal, and Mercy a fairy.

 

“You’re too kind.” Mercy waved a hand, as another clutched her cheek. Her smile was coy, as her eyes could stop examining Brigitte, tracking up and down. 

 

There was a poignant pause, as the two stared one another down. There was a tension in the air, their bodies tense, either of them ready to speak, but too scared to say a single thing. 

 

“You mean the world to me—“ Mercy fumbled, words tripping out of her mouth like a gushing faucet. She babbled on, hands twirling as she jumped from one thing to another, talking far too fast for Brigitte to even follow. “And I’m—I’m afraid that if I say a single thing, I would lose you too.” Mercy covered her mouth, as she slowly shook her head. Her eyes stared down to the floor, unable to keep her own eyes locked with Brigitte’s.

 

“Then don't.” Mercy’s eyes trailed upwards, hands slowly lowering from her lips. “Don’t be afraid.” Brigitte swallowed the fear that raged on in the pit of her stomach. It was all so small, compared to everything. “Mercy,  _ you mean the  _ **_world_ ** to me. I, Brigitte Lindelholm, love you more than the world itself.” 

 

Mercy’s hands dropped to her side, as twinkling eyes stared back into Brigitte’s own roaring one’s. It may have been the tears slowly surfacing for the fairy, but Brigitte had sworn she could see the world in Mercy’s eyes. The stars, the sun and the moon. Mercy truly was her everything, her entire world. 

 

There was a slow step forward, and another, before Brigitte was thrown back, having to quickly catch her step as the weight of another pulled her down. Mercy clung at Brigitte’s neck, tears streaming down her cheeks as she borrowed her head into the crock of Brigitte’s neck.

 

Shushing softly, Brigitte ran a hand up and down Mercy’s back, gently spinning her round, and whispering the ways she loved the fairy.

 

_ You are the sun that keeps me in motion. _

 

_ You are the moon that pulls me.  _

 

_ You are the gear to my clock that keeps me ticking.  _

 

_ You are my garden, as vibrant and as fragrant as any flower could be _ . 

 

_ You are my chrysanthemum, and in life or in death, I will always be with you. _


End file.
